


Bury the Lead

by malatruse



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Consensual Sex, Knotting, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Stealth Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 13:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13436136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malatruse/pseuds/malatruse
Summary: Be careful what you wish for--or in this case, lie about to get information.





	Bury the Lead

**Author's Note:**

> The setting for this fic is a modern world where alphas and omegas exist but can procreate with normal humans, with those genes being recessive. They also belong to general groups representing their traits, the most common being canine, feline, avian, etc. While this doesn't result in physical manifestations (no cat ears, sorry), it can affect fertility. Thus, it sometimes happens that someone can go their whole life with these recessive traits and not realize it until there's an environmental trigger.

The house is more of a shack, pushed up against a patch of wilderness too wet to be properly called a forest. Miles gingerly walks up the steps and onto the wooden porch, not wanting to get derailed by sticking his leg through a rotting plank and going to the emergency room for gangrene.

He tries the doorbell, which is predictably broken, then knocks firmly on the door and waits. From the other side he hears footsteps, and a pause that he guesses is the occupant peering at him through the peephole. Finally a male voice says, “No comment.”

“Well hang on a second, you don’t even know who I am or what I want.”

“You’re Miles Upshur, and you’re here to get my story so you can sell it for sympathy. You think you’re the first journalist to show up at my door like this, asking pointed questions about what it must be like for a male omega to get ganged up on by a whole community?”

Miles edges closer to the door. “No, look, I get it.” He twists his fingers together and thinks, _fuck it, we need this lead._ “I’m an omega, too,” he lies.

The door cracks open, and the house’s resident peeks out. Miles’ eyes trail from unkempt hair and glasses down over a wrinkled t-shirt and muddy jeans. Their eyes meet, and with a nod, he opens to the door to let Miles in.

They talk for about an hour, hunched around a water-stained kitchen table with Blake getting up regularly to refill his tea. By the end of it, Miles’ recorder is full and he’s got more than enough to make a dent in Knoth’s reputation.

He stands up to leave, and Blake pulls him into a tight hug. God, his hair is right in Miles’ face, and his shampoo smells like it’s just two herbs rubbed together.

“Thank you,” Blake says, letting go. “It’s good to know one of us is out there doing what’s right.”

“Your testimony will do more than my work,” Miles replies sheepishly, backing out the door.

He gets back to the office still smelling those shitty herbs. But Trager is in, tapping away at his tablet, so the stink of too much cologne should soon blot it out, Miles figures.

“You get anything good?” Trager asks without looking up.

Miles grins and sets the recorder on the desk in front of him. “Paydirt.”

“It better be, for all the resources we’ve sunk into it.” Trager pops the flash drive out of it and plugs it into his tablet. “You have to suck his dick for this?”

“Nope, just made him think we had some things in common and the guy opened right up.”

Trager laughs and leans back, yells into the next room, “Pay up, Gluskin!” There’s a grumble, and Trager turns back to Miles. “You okay, buddy? You’re looking a little sick.”

Miles shrugs. “Nah, just too much time stuck in a little shack full of herbal remedies and shit. All I need’s a shower.”

“Suit yourself,” Trager says, already turning back to his work. “Just drop by Park’s desk on the way out and let him know what’s up, you know how he gets when he thinks he’s out of the loop.”

Waylon isn’t at his desk, but Miles finds him in the server room fussing over temperatures. He fills him in on the case updates, but ducks out before long; for once, he agrees with Waylon about the heat in there. By the time he gets back up the stairs he’s nearly sweating, and of course that’s exactly when he almost collides with Eddie. Ugh, great.

“What’s the hurry, dear?” Eddie asks with a half-cocked grin and his usual unasked-for endearments.

“I finished my schoolwork early and now I’m being allowed to go home,” Miles quips back. “So if you’ll excuse me, I have a bus to catch.”

But Eddie doesn’t move out of the way. He’s looking at Miles oddly, pushing into his space even more than he usually does. His nostrils flare, and he says, “You didn’t mention you were an omega.”

“What? Oh, no, that was just for the case, to get closer to Langermann.” He’s feeling stifled suddenly, and maybe Trager is right, maybe he _is_ getting sick.

“You know I’m an alpha, correct? I have a sense for these things. Though I suppose it wasn’t latent before, there’s no mistaking that right now, you have the aura of an omega going into heat.”

Miles took a step back, remembering too late that he’d just come up the stairs. Only a quick grab from Eddie saved him from tumbling backwards, but he barely processed it. “No way, they test for that stuff, don’t they? Is this some kind of prank you and Trager are pulling, because the St. Patrick’s Day party was not my fault, okay—“ He stops, suddenly hyper-aware of Eddie’s hand on his arm, pulling him away from the stairs.

“Langermann is a known omega. It’s possible spending time in proximity to him may have caused this. The reason doesn’t matter—do you have someone you feel comfortable spending your heat with?”

“Fuck no, if anyone found out I’d be lampooned by every other journalist I’ve screwed over.”

Eddie’s face lit up in a grin. “Then, may I—“

But Miles is already shaking his head. “No, no way in hell, this is the definition of a conflict of interest and probably another scheme of yours to sleep your way through the office.” But his arm is tingling from where Eddie still hasn’t let go, and something about the man’s broad shoulders is looking more and more appealing. Miles swallows heavily.

“Fine. But no one can know about this.”

* * *

 

They take separate cars, despite Eddie’s worry about Miles’ capacity to drive. It’s only five minutes to his apartment in good traffic, and at this time of day the traffic’s as good as it can get. He hops out as soon as the engine’s off, breathing in the fresh air with some measure of relief. Eddie’s car pulls up not long after, and Miles walks to the door without looking, fumbling the building key out of his pocket and pulling the door open maybe harder than necessary. Rarely has he been so thankful to only live on the second floor, sweat starting to bead after the single flight.

At his apartment door he hesitates, turning to look Eddie over. He could still say no, go inside, do whatever people do when they’re alone during their heats. But Eddie is standing there hunched over in the narrow hallway, for once _not_ in Miles’ personal space, watching him with concern, and so for the second time that day Miles thinks, _fuck it,_ and lets him in.

As soon as the door closes Eddie crowds in close, pushing back Miles’ wild bangs and kissing him. The contact sends a spark all through his body, and Miles pulls back and says, “So uh, bedroom?”

Eddie nods breathlessly and lets Miles lead him the two yards to his small room. He climbs onto the bed without prompting, pushing Miles ahead of him. Being predictably alpha-ish. The thought makes Miles pull back, planting a hand on Eddie’s chest.

“Wait, I’m not gonna get pregnant, am I?”

Eddie laughs. “I’m afraid our biological roots are too different for that, darling. But if you have a condom I won’t object to wearing it.”

“I wasn’t exactly planning on bringing anyone home,” Miles grumbles. “They’re probably all expired. God, I wish I knew any of this stuff before, you know, right now.”

Eddie sits back, eyeing him with undisguised interest. “Feel free to ask me anything you might be wondering,” he says.

But Miles is for once not immune to the way he’s being looked over. “Maybe later,” he says. “Just, like, knot me or whatever.”

That makes Eddie throw his head back and laugh, but he climbs closer all the same, kissing Miles again and sliding a hand under his shirt. His skin is warm, hot almost, even against Miles’ feverish heat, but somehow it doesn’t leave him feeling sweltering like he was before. And then Eddie is sliding his shirt up and mouthing at his neck and Miles groans.

It’s nice for about five seconds before Miles goes stiff and pushes Eddie away. “Listen,” he says, “You can’t do the whole ‘mating bite’ thing, okay?”

He’s got about half a speech prepared on exactly why, but Eddie just says, “This is nice, but I’m not about to propose marriage, dear.” He grins. “Though if you’d like, I can leave plenty of love bites.”

Miles’ stomach flips, and he jerks his head in a nod. Eddie waits long enough to finish pulling the shirt over his head and then leans down again, kissing the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Miles remembers he has arms of his own, and begins to untuck Eddie’s ridiculous dress shirt.

He doesn’t get very far with the buttons but that’s okay because Eddie gets the picture and strips it off. For a moment he stills and just _looks_ at Miles, and Miles looks back. His pupils are so dilated they look like black pits, his hair slicked-back hair falling in disarray, and he looks so absolutely captivated that Miles can’t help but grin.

“Like what you see?” he asks, and Eddie responds by unbuttoning his pants and shoving them down. Fuck, he’s definitely hard, and the sight of his dick makes Miles painfully aware of his own. He starts fumbling with his own pants, and Eddie joins in as well, leaning down to press his face to the inside of Miles’ thigh almost as soon as it’s exposed. He runs a hand up Miles’ dick and his whole body jerks upward.

“Shit,” he hisses, and feels Eddie grin against him. “Yeah, I’m gonna need you to fuck me right now.”

The words have barely left his mouth before Eddie is flipping him over, hands running almost reverently down his back and over the curve of his ass.

“I assume you would have noticed before if you were able to self-lubricate,” Eddie murmurs.

“Nah, seems like I lucked out in the genetics department.” Miles reaches for the drawer of the bedside table, but can’t quite reach without getting up, which nope, not happening. He lets Eddie lean over him to grab the lube, letting out a contented sigh with how the motion pushes the other man’s dick up against him.

Miles usually doesn’t enjoy getting fingered, but the whole situation is already hotter than it has any right to be, and the way Eddie opens him up is just downright luxurious. By the time he’s got three fingers in, Miles has his legs tucked together and his ass up, encouraging him both physically and verbally.

When Eddie pulls his hand away Miles is feeling loose in more ways than one, back arching and eyes half-closed.

“Y’good?” he asks after a long moment has passed, and Eddie hums the affirmative and pushes into him.

The stretch makes him wince, and he forgets to breathe in again until Eddie’s fully in him.

“Oh, Miles,” Eddie breathes, and Miles manages to twist around far enough to look him in the eye and say, “I think that’s the first time you’ve called by my damn name since we met.”

Eddie laughs, and Miles swears he feels it inside. “Let me stay like this forever and I’ll call you anything you want, darling.” He curls around Miles and presses a wet kiss to his shoulderblade.

“Sorry, but if you don’t move soon I’m gonna kick you out.” Miles pushes back against him for emphasis.

“Oh,” Eddie breathes again, “Yes, all right.” He kisses Miles again, then sits up and starts fucking him in earnest.

Miles bites back a yelp, worried it might be taken the wrong way, and braces against the bed. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing his face against the sheets. He’s bottomed before, but the heat was making it feel like everything was more intense. He adjusts his hips and suddenly Eddie’s hitting right against his prostate, and this time he _does_ yelp.

Eddie’s grip on his hips tightens, all his hesitance from before thrown out the window as he fucks into Miles. The man is rambling now, a stream of words that don’t seem to mean anything, and by contrast, Miles is silent aside from the sounds he can’t contain. The thought makes him laugh, the laugh turns into a moan, and the thought slips from his mind as Eddie says, “Can I knot in you?”

“You better,” Miles bites out, and Eddie’s rhythm stutters, pushing into Miles as deep as he can before letting out an unrestrained moan. For a moment it feels the same, and then Miles is feeling the pressure as his knot swells, going from a pleasant stretch to an insistent pressure, and he hisses in discomfort.

“It’s all right,” Eddie murmurs, curling against him again, and one hand reaches down to press at his perineum, rubbing soothing circles that push his prostate up against the knot inside him. Miles whimpers, biting his lip, and Eddie reaches down to jerk him off and that pushes him right over the edge, body jerking in pleasure as his orgasm is wrung from him.

He drops his head against the mattress, panting open-mouthed against it long enough to leave a wet stain from his saliva. Finally he has enough presence of mind to ask, “So how long until it goes down?”

“Since I’m from a diluted lineage, it should only be another five minutes or so. Sorry, I was a little caught up in the moment and didn’t stop to consider the comfort of your positioning.”

“S’okay, this is just fine,” Miles mumbles, turning his head to the side. The heat that’s been needling him all day has mostly abated, and he’s so tired he could probably fall asleep like this, dick in him and all.

They fuck a couple more times, past sundown and past dinnertime, and Miles is feeling pleasantly sore but definitely hungry by the time Eddie comes back from the bathroom with a glass of water for him.

“Thanks,” he says absently, trying not to drown himself in his attempt to drink it as fast as possible.

“Think nothing of it,” Eddie replies with a lopsided smile.

Miles sets down the glass and looks up at him. “Seriously, thanks for,” he waves a hand at the situation. “And for hanging around afterwards.”

Eddie sits down beside him on the bed. “I was taught it was common courtesy to see to your heat partner’s needs when they were coming down.” He grins. “Plus, I was hoping I could get some dinner out of you.”

Miles laughs and stumbles to the kitchen. “Joke’s on you, the only thing in my fridge is takeout menus.”

* * *

 

Trager takes one look at the way Miles deliberately isn’t looking at Eddie and says, “Am I hallucinating? I remember you telling me that you would, and I quote, ‘never have sex with that sleazeball even for a good lead.’”

“Well,” Miles says, watching Eddie exchange pleasantries with Waylon, “It was an excellent lead.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to syrupwit for being my beta and feeding the flames. Apologies to everyone waiting for me to update my other fics; this one came to me in a dream and demanded to be written.


End file.
